Arson for Attention
by CWprodigy
Summary: "He says I've been ignoring him which is completely untrue. He's behaving like a child." And the last thing he expected was for his butler to agree with the criminal who was currently keeping him out of his own bedroom. "Forgive me if I'm wrong sir," Alfred begins and Bruce inwardly sighs because honestly, when is Alfred ever wrong? Shameless B/J humor and fluff. Enjoy!


**A/N: So I needed a break from all my dark Batman/Joker stuff so I wrote this. Shameless fluff for those who need it. Please review and all flames will be used to keep me warm at night. Thanks! **

X

Jack is an attention whore and Bruce _knows _the criminal realizes it, accepts it, embraces it even. He has to, from the garish make-up he cakes on, to the ridiculous purple get-up he parades around in, the shrill laugh that seems to echo for miles. Even when he isn't the Joker, even when he's Jack, his pretty face and dirty blonde curls, something glowing in those green eyes… The man draws attention from everyone around him but is only interested in having Bruce's. And Bruce knows it; he knows that half the time the only reason the criminal does things is for his attention and his alone. So when Jack is _subtle _enough to blow up his car in Wayne Enterprises parking lot and only his car, the billionaire turned vigilante knows the clown wants his undivided attention. But that doesn't stop him from getting pissed. He loved that car.

Okay, and maybe storming home in the middle of the day, completely livid and ready to punch the first person that so much as _sneezes_ in his direction isn't the greatest idea he's had to date. But at this rate he's ready to adorn the suit and cowl and beat the living batshit out of his enemy turned lover, mid-day lunch hour be damned.

"Brucie," The demon incarnate croons all wide smiles and bright eyes. "I take it you got my message?"

"You blew up my car," Bruce says flatly. The man currently sitting Indian style on the foot of his bed offers a smile that only serves to annoy him. The make-up is off and the hair is back to its normal dirty-blonde origins, which doesn't please the billionaire as much as it normally would have.

"Well, yeah," Jack shrugs, looking as though it was his God-given right. "You were _ignoring _me. How else was I supposed to get your attention?"

"By talking Jack, normal people talk. Crazy people blow up their lover's car." And yeah, Bruce is pissed, and he knows Jack hates being called crazy, but the man blew up his _car._ And what if people were milling around? They could've easily been hurt if not killed.

Jack's eyes glow dangerously, transforming from bright jade to forest green. "I'm _not _crazy," he hisses, rising quickly and poking a slender finger in the playboy's broad chest. "_You_ were ignoring me. Don't _normal _people not blow off their boyfriends for two weeks?"

"It has not been two weeks," Bruce denies, though in the back of his mind he isn't so sure. Two weeks? Surely the madman must've been losing time again.

"Smashing my head into pavement isn't exactly my idea of a date," the criminal deadpans, crossing his arms over his chest. He cocks his head to the side, surveying Bruce and waiting for a response. The smirk on his face says he thinks he's won and maybe if it wasn't for that self-assured look Bruce would've just apologized.

"You really don't get it do you?" he asks snidely instead. "You blew up my car. You could've killed someone."

"But I didn't!" Jack yells, throwing his hands in the air with an over-exaggerated flourish. "Nobody's dead. It was just one little explosion, child's play. Why do you care about them so much anyway huh? What good comes from caring about people that hate you?"

Bruce feels his anger rising, watches his fists ball at his sides. _Don't hit him_. "Because it stops me from being an insane sociopathic freak like you!" The minute he says it, he wishes he hasn't.

He watches at the Joker's face freeze as he processes the words, watches as his mouth parts and his eyes turn cold and he's sputtering out an apology before the blonde holds out a hand to stop the syllables before they can jump off the billionaire's tongue.

"Get. Out," Jack says, and his voice is nearly inaudible. Bruce tries to say how he doesn't mean it but the criminal just pushes him away.

"Get out!" And he's throwing pillows and hairbrushes and shoes, and Bruce ducks to narrowly miss an alarm clock chucked at his head. Jack advances on him, throwing anything he can get his hands on, tears brimming in his eyes.

The door closes with a slam but doesn't lock and Bruce stares at it, dumfounded and guilty wondering how it could have possibly escalated this quickly.

"Trouble in paradise sir?" Alfred seems to have appeared out of nowhere and something about the predicament when spoken through his accented voice makes Bruce feel childishly foolish.

"You could say that Alfred," he says uneasily, running a hand through his dark hair, ruffling it further.

The butler raises an eyebrow, clearly not amused. "And what, if I may ask, have you done to infuriate him this time?"

Bruce flushes, something akin to embarrassment running through him at the slightly patronizing tone.

"He says I've been ignoring him which is completely untrue. He's behaving like a child." And the last thing he expected was for his butler to agree with the criminal who was currently keeping him out of his own bedroom.

"Forgive me if I'm wrong sir," Alfred begins and Bruce inwardly sighs because honestly when is Alfred ever wrong? "But the last time I recall you actually speaking to "Jack" and not "Joker" was last Monday and given that today is the Thursday of that following week…"

Bruce barely remembers. It had been a rush of board meetings and patrolling the city and someone had tried to break into the Tumbler and the Joker had realigned himself with the mob…

"Damn Alfred," he groans, looking forlornly at the closed bedroom door. "He's right."

"Yes, sir," Alfred says and Bruce doesn't have to look to know he's smirking. "I know how much you hate when that happens."

Bruce lets out a sardonic chuckle. "I guess I should apologize."

"If you want to see your bed or the man in it again, it would be wise…sir." And with that, the butler is gone, disappearing down the vast corridors of Wayne manor, most likely off for his afternoon tea.

The playboy stares at the door for a moment, considering what he's going to say, wondering if the man will even still be there. He opens the door, entering with a silence given to him by years of training. Jack is muttering to himself, sitting on the bed with his back to the billionaire.

Bruce continues in silence, stepping over the debris of their argument until he's directly behind him. And Jack must hear him, because his shoulders tense and in the blink of an eye Bruce is pinned to the bed with a knife to his throat and Jack has this wild look in his eyes before he realizes.

He doesn't apologize though, just lowers the knife and gets off his lover, concealing the weapon and wiping the tears from his eyes. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are puffy.

"Jack…" Bruce begins. But the criminal refuses to be appeased, stalking to the window and turning his back on the other man and Bruce thinks he might flee.

"Jack," he tries again, just a bit more forcefully. "I was being an ass earlier. Please can we just talk?" He sees the clown turn his head ever so slightly to look at him and he pats the bed and sits down.

Jack loves to sit on his lap and he does so every chance he gets, yet this time he sits down a good five feet away, glower still prominent and frown causing the naked scar tissue to ripple downward. Bruce takes advantage of his excess strength like always and easily slides the criminal in his lap, sighing as he defiantly stares at the ground, still tense in his arms.

"I'm sorry, I was being a jerk. I shouldn't have ignored you and you're not insane or a freak." He strokes the dirty blonde curls and he knows Jack _loves _having his hair stroked almost as much as he enjoys having his scars kissed and he can feel him settle more securely in his grasp, leaning his head against Bruce's shoulder.

"I'm sorry I blew up your car," Jack says, voice slightly muffled and Bruce knows he's not sorry he set fire to his car; God knows he'd do it again in a heartbeat, but he is sorry that Bruce is upset about it and that's good enough. Bruce kisses his temple, dips his head and kisses the scars.

"Do you think next time you could do something a little less drastic?" He asks softly.

Jack wriggles in his lap, adjusts himself to peer at Bruce, green eyes meeting brown and glowing with mischief. His mouth is mere inches from his lover's. "I suppose I _could_." His licks his plump lips, eyeing Bruce's own. "But where's the fun in that? What do I do if I get bored? Though I guess I could always, ah, make trouble with Johnny-boy, he's _always_ a good time."

The playboy's eyes narrow, something akin to jealousy momentarily filling him. He captured the madman's mouth in a hungry kiss, tongue rutting up against the scar tissue on the inside of the other's cheeks. Jack moans into it, wrapping his hands around the other man's neck and pulling him closer.

"If you get bored," Bruce says once the kiss ends, eyeing the panting man seriously. "Come to me, not Crane. Understand?"

Jack nods vigorously, already seeking another kiss. He nuzzles into Bruce's neck, shifting until he was straddling him. "I missed you," he whispers, kissing his neck. "Couldn't sleep without you."

Thinking back, Batman had been spending more time away from the manor, patrolling earlier and staying out until dawn broke, trying to counteract criminals and burn away the irritation his dual identity caused. Wow, had he really been that much of an ass? He winces at just the thought.

"Let's sleep now." He peels off the suit jacket and takes off the hideous paisley tie, gently discarding his lover on the bed before taking off his shoes.

"Now?" Jack's voice is disbelieving though he's already pawing off Bruce's white Oxford. "Don't you think people would notice if the CEO just didn't show up after lunch?" He discards his own shoes and peels back the duvet, diving under it like a cat.

"I think I'll get off easy considering the fact that my car was destroyed." He slides under it as well, pulling Jack to his chest and wrapping his arms around him.

"Oh yeah," the criminal yawns as if he could honestly forget, snuggling into the other man, already half asleep.

Bruce snorts in disbelief and closes his eyes.

And no one would believe that the Clown Prince of Crime himself was in Gotham's most eligible bachelor's bed, snoozing the afternoon away with said playboy's arms around him so contently but that's exactly what was happening because Jack _always _gets his way.

And all it took was a bit of arson.

X

A/N: Okay this was incredibly fun to write. Hope you enjoyed. Please review, they make my day!


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